
Class _ T^S ^-dtS . b 
Book M 1S_ Yj 



GoppghtN?, 



17 



CDfimiGHT DEPOSm 



VERSES 

of 

THIRTY YEARS AGO 



BY 

Rev. Michael V. Mcdonough 

AUTHOR OF 

"ONE YEAR WITH GOD" 



ANGEL GUARDIAN PRESS, Jamaica Plain 

BOSTON, MASS. 

1917 






PERMISSU 
ORDINARII 



FEB 12 1917 



Copyright 

BY THE 

Franciscan Monastery of St. Clare 

Boston 

1917 



CONTENTS. 

I . My Rosary 11 

II. Resignation 12 

III. Spirit Rest! 13 

IV. The Year OF Time .... 14 
V. Fanny Parnell 15 

VI . Nature's Music 17 

VII. Profession: — 

1. Question . . . . ■ 19 

2. Answer . . . .21 

3. BitteFur Mich! ... 23 
VIII. Faith Looks Through Death 24 

IX. Alone 26 

X. Sonnet 27 

XI. Greeting 28 

XII. Loneliness 30 

Note to "Loneliness" ... 31 

XIII . Four Hymns to St. Anne: — e 

1. Morning STAR . . . . 32 

2. The Holy Name, Saint Anne 33 

3 . Recourse To Saint Anne 34 

4. Hymn to Saint Anne . 35 
XIV. St. Bernard's Mother ... 36 

XV. The Pagan Philosopher's Question 38 

XVI . The Pagan Philosopher's Answer 40 



CONTENTS 



XVII. Old St. Mary's 44 

XVIII. Farewell 47 

XIX. At Corpus Christi .... 50 

XX. Life AND Death 52 

XXI. Fidelity 54 

XXII. Beauty IN All Things ... 56 

XXIII. Day-Dream . . . . , . .58 

XXIV. Fourth OF July in Tyrol . . 61 
XXV. The Light-House .... 63 

XXVI. New Year's Eve .... 65, 

XXVII. Memorial Day 66 

XXVIII. Nationhood 69 

XXIX. At Seventy-Four .... 72 

XXX. Garfield 73 

XXXI . The Rose of Friendship ... 75 

XXXII. To A College Friend's Mother 76 

XXXIII. OnaFly-Leaf 77 

XXXIV. In THE Dormitory .... 78 
XXXV. The Tramp 80 

XXXVI. To My Canary 81 

XXXVII. To Walter 83 

XXXVIII. Base-Ball Song 85 

XXXIX. The Melodies OF Ireland . . 88 



DEDICATORY VERSES. 

Brothers of Charity, yours are the verses here, 
Take them or leave them, admire or disdain ! 
Little of moment the rhymester rehearses here ; 
Would it were much ! For his spirit would 
fain 
Prove you its gratitude, pay what it owes to 
you. 
Sons of the Belgian Vincent de Paul* 
Rich in the kindness and grace that e'er flows 
to you 
Down from the Maker and Master of all ! 

Workers in silence for Christ and His dearest 
ones. 

Love is your portion here, glory above. 
Many profess; but the true and sincerest ones 

Sacrifice, suffer and live for their love. 
Thus speed your lives away: faith, regularity, - 

Self all forgotten, — like drops in the sea,— 
God be your guerdon, ye Brothers of Charity, 

Christ your rewarder and heaven your fee ! 

*See Note to Dedicatory Verses, next page. 



NOTE TO DEDICATORY VERSES 



The Very Rev. Pierre Joeph Triest 
(1760-1836), Titular Canon of St. Bavon of 
Ghent, Knight of the Order of Leopold and 
of the Order of the Belgian Lion, Founder of 
the Brothers of Charity. In history, and 
even during his life-time ,he has often been 
called "the St. Vincent dePaul of Belgium." 



PREFACE. 

The title-page describes this volume very 
well; not "poems," please, but "verses.'* 
For "poetry" and "poem" have always 
been, to the author at least, words of a 
character almost sacred. He would grant 
the title "poetry" only to the very best 
passages of the great classics, ancient and 
modern, though there is much unworded 
poetry in the earth-life-experience of every 
human being. 

Nearly all of these "verses of thirty years 
ago" were published in newspapers and 
magazines of about that period under various 
nom-de-plumes. The author collects them 
now for the first time in a volume. He con- 
siders them "too good to throw away" and 
hopes that many readers will find pleasure 
in them. 



Jan. 18th., 1917. 
St. Kilian's Church, 
New Bedford, 

Mass. 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO 11 



MY ROSARY. 

O Mother, list my heartfelt prayer, 
The prayer I offer Thine and thee! 

hear and answer by thy loving care 
My rosary, my rosary! 

1 hail thee oft, and to thee send 

The homage of my heart and tongue. 
I tell each bead, "each bead unto the end; 

And there a cross is hung." 
O help me, tho' life's shadows frown. 

In joy and woe, in gain and loss. 
To thank thy Son Divine for every crown; 
To kiss each cross, Mother, to kiss each cross! 

Hail Mary! Full of grace art thou. 
O bend thy smile of love on me. 
That e'er thro' life I tell to thee, as now, 

My rosary, my rosary! 
Thy joys and sorrows sweetly blend 

In that great glory thou hast won. 
The Lord is with thee. Mother; be my friend 

With thy Almighty Son; 
That so life's beads of sorrow form 

With every joyful mystery 
My glorious decades, when I'm past the 

storm, — 
In heaven with thee, Mother, in heaven with 
thee! 



12 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 

II. 

RESIGNATION. 

He was my friend, as fair to see 
As human kind are wont to be; 
And Thou didst take him, Lord, from me: 
Thy Will be done, 

I had none other. He alone 
Remained awhile. Now he hath flown, 
My life is sad. My heart doth moan: 
"Thy Will be done." 

Perchance 'tis best life's cloudy day 
Should quickly from him pass away. 
I trust he's happy, while I pray: 
"Thy Will be done." 

Forgive, O Lord, the wilful tear 
That comes from nature, not from fear. 
I trust and pray. And Thou v/ilt hear. 
Thy Will be done. 

I bow my soul beneath Thy rod. 
Though tears may fall upon the sod 
Above his body. Oh! my God, 
Thy Will be done. 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 13 



III. 

SPIRIT, REST! 

Rest thee, spirit, from our vision 
By death's fingers torn away! 

In the glow of light elysian 

Mayst thou find a brighter day ! 

Not in outward semblance only 
Is our prayer to God addressed, 

But from hearts grown sad and lonely. 
Spirit, rest! 

Rest thee, spirit! Strife is ended. 

Battle over, labour done. 
All earth's crosses grandly blended 

In the crown which thou hast won. 
Where no sorrow can confound thee 

Thou has flown at God's behest. 
Saints and angels are around thee, 
Spirit, rest ! 



14 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 
IV. 

THE YEAR OF TIME. 

Three seasons are there in the Year of Time 
And only three. They spread their Kingdom 
vast 
From end to end thro' all ; and each is famed 
For manifold attractions. They are named 

The Present and the Future and the Past. 
Not by the changing charms of cold and heat, 
Not by the flowers and hoar-frost are they 
known. 
The Present's joys and sorrows e'er retreat. 
The Future, while we grasp it, shall be 
flown. 
And memories, which with us ever last, 
Are living blossoms of the buried Past. 

The Year of Time, O, 'tis a wondrous year! 
Creation's dawning was the New- Year's 
Day, 
And age on age have seen it onward wend 
Its calm, continued course unto the end 
Where earth and skies at last shall pass 
away. 
Before and after it eternity. 

Whence God's unerring Voice its judgment 
speaks. 
Within it all that was and is to be ; 

Ages itfe days; millenia its wee^ks; 
And, be they in the green leaf or the sear, 
The lives of men but minutes of that Year. 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 15 
V. 

FANNY PARNELL. 

When dies the patriot, a nation weeps 

In tender gratitude above his grave. 
She consecrates the spot wherein he sleeps; 

She guards forever all the love he gave; 
Forgetfulness shall ne'er o'erwhelm the name 
So close inwoven in its country's fame. 
No; high enthroned o'er pets of time or place. 
Admired by all men, worshipped by his race, 

In envied glory he shall ever shine. 
O Woman, lovely thro' thy selfless love 
For native land, ascend thy throne above; 

Depart in peace. The patriot's crown is 
thine. 

When cruel death doth steal the poet's soul 

And still fore'er his passion-breathing lyre, 
His melodies along the ages roll 

To light in other hearts his own bright fire 
Tho' green grass groweth and sad ivy creepeth 
Above the charnel where his body sleepeth. 
O Woman, burning with the poet's flame, 
Thy Land's delight shall vivify thy name, 

Thy Land shall e'er thy memory enshrine. 
Earth's days are done for thee; thy bird-songs 

cease. 
Fair Bard of Erin, take thy flight in peace. 

The singer's immortality is thine. 



16 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 

O loving daughter of a grateful land, 

O daughter true, as e'er thy land hath borne, 
O woman by thy noble labours grand. 

Thy web is spun; thy woof of life is torn; 
Thy clarion battle-voice no longer charms; 
The present yields thee to the future's arms. 
Yet sons and daughters of another age 
Shall read thy name on history's shining page 

In characters that time can ne'er efface, 
And in her patriot-children's gallant line, 
O Patriot-Poet, thou shalt brightly shine 

When 'mid the nations Erin takes her place. 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 17 

VI. 

NATURE'S MUSIC. 

The thirsty flowers are drinking 

The gentle rain of spring 
And vsweetly on their petals 

It soundeth, pattering; — 
Glad music of the springtime, 

Swell out, and fill with cheer 
The heart that welcomes gladly 

The boyhood of the year' 

The sun is brightly shining 

While summer breezes blow 
And softly from the meadows 

The drowsy cattle low. — 
Sweet melodies of summer. 

Breathe low your slumbrous strain. 
The days when rest is over, 

Too soon will dawn again. 

The faded leaves are rustling 

Upon the withered grass 
While, fleeing from the Winter, 

The days of Autumn pass. 
The zephyrs, gently sighing, 

Proclaim with bated breath 
The hour of winter's advent, 

The hour of nature's death. 



18 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 

Upon earth's wrinkled bosom 

The frozen snow-drifts lie 
And icy stars are twinkling 

From out the cold, blue sky. — 
Howl loud, ye winds of winter, 

A requiem shrill and clear; 
Ye publish to the nations 

The death-bed of the year. 

All these are nature's music. 

O it is far more sweet 
Than e'er from earth's composers 

Our wond'ring ears shall greet. 
The symphonies of nature 

Have come to us from God! — • 
Less glorious the pathway 

Brahms' and Beethoven's trod. 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 19 
VII. 
PROFESSION. 



(The first part, "Question," by Sister 
St. Andrew of the Montreal Grey Nuns; 
only the other two parts, "Answer" and 
"Bitte Fur Mich," by the author). 



1. QUESTION. 

"Sister of Charity. 

Robed in grey, 
Did thy heart grow sad 

When thou spokst today? 

■^'Did dreams of earth's pleasure 

Come between, 
Thy soul from the cross 

Of thy Spouse to wean? 

^'Did far-off joys seem as 

Burnished gold? 
Thy ring and thy cross 

As a weight untold? 

^'O, no! For thy heart roamed 

Far away 
From this glittering world 

And its pageants gay. 



20 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 

"O, no! O, no! For all 

Earthly dross 
Thou countest naught 

In the light of the cross. 

"Thou'st freely chosen the 

Better part; 
Thy Master and Spouse 

Claims thy willing heart. 

"Ah! Angels lowered their 
Light-crowned brows 

To listen today 

To thy holy vows. 

"And Mary smiled from her 

Throne above. 
And the Heart of thy 

Master thrilled with love I 

"Sister of Charity, 

Robed in grey, 
'Mid the sick and the poor 

Is thy lowly way. 

"Thou'st taken the path 

That leads to God; 
Thou'rt tracing the steps 

Which thy Saviour trod. 

"May the field of thy soul be 

Bright in bloom, 
When His loving Voice 

Bids thee hasten home!" 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 21 



2. ANSWER. 



Sister of Charity, 

Robed in grey, 
My soul was light 

When I spoke today. 

No dream of earth and its 

Fleeting dross 
Held back my heart 

From my Saviour's cross. 

No worldly vision 

Came between 
My soul and the joys 

Eye hath not seen. 

For the perfect peace 

What tongue may say 

Of the Sister of Charity, 
Robed in grey? 

The worldling strives for 

Fickle gold; 
And the joys of his heart 

Tongues oft have told. 

He searcheth for pleasure 
O'er sea and land; 

He graspeth each world-joy 
With eager hand ; 



22 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 

All the days of his life 

After baubles flee; 
And the treasures he findeth 

Each eye may see. 

But eye cannot see, be it 

Sharp as steel, 
Nor ear e'er hear. 

Nor spirit feel. 

Nor mind conceive, 

Nor tongue e'er say 
The Heaven-On-Earth of the 

Nun in grey! 

When my path was over 

Earth's stony soil. 
It was Mary's Son 

Who eased my toil. 

I sought the home 

Where frail earth-joys cease. 
I entered in 

And I found but peace. 

When my weary feet to the 

Altar had paced, 
'Twas the King of Heaven 

That I embraced. 

With a prayer for strength 

I knelt me down; 
I clasped the cross, and it 

Seemed a crown! 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 23 

My soul was faint 

And my heart was wan ; 
'Twas the Lord of life 

That I leaned upon! 

Sister of Charity, 

Robed in grey, 
My heart was light 

When I spoke today. 



3. BITTE FUR MICH. 

O Oft thro' this life's 
Short, stormy day, 

'Mid the sick and the poor 
Of your peaceful way, 

For a feeble 

Brother in pity pray. 
Kind Sister of Charity, 

Robed in grey! 



24 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 

VIII. 

FAITH LOOKS THROUGH 
DEATH. 



In the faithlthat looks through death " — (Wordsworth.) 



{The Rev, Daniel F. Holland died in 1884, and only a 
jew\months after having taken his vow as a suhdeacon.) 



Thus stilled fore'er the busy brain 

By cruel death's resistless dart ; 

Thus chilled the throbbing, love-warm 
heart, 
So gentle to a brother's pain; 
Thus calmed as in a magic spell 

The veins whose pulsing life is o'er; 

Thus from our presence gone before, 
Our brother, whom we loved so well ! 

Faith looks through death and peers beyond 

The sable portals of the tomb, 

And lo! bright light from out the gloom 
And far-off voices that respond 
To her full questionings, unsealed 

Before her gaze the mystery; 

The spirit's immortality 
In all its brightness clear revealed. 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 25 

Ah! Loved One, what a change is thine! 
That earth, with pain and pleasure rife, 
Should fade from thee^ that love and life 

Within thine eyes should cease to shine, 

That vanished is the manful will. 
That every function doth forget 
To play its wonted part. And yet 

Faith looks through death, and sees thee still. 

Faith looks through death. And tho' thine 
eyes 
Have closed unto our earthly light, 
We know thou hast a keener sight 

Where dwells thy soul in Paradise ; 

And tho' on earth's maternal breast 
Full lowly lies thy placid brow, 
'Tis well. The sacramental vow 

Shall crown thee in thy spirit's rest. 

O short-lived melody that thrilled 
Our spirits for one fleeting hour ! 
Sweet, fragrant, early-blighted flower 

Of earthly promise unfulfilled. 

Beyond the grave, hope whispereth, 
In heaven, shall thy blooming be; — 
But on the cold, dark earth stand we. 

And evermore faith looks through death. 



26 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 



IX. 

ALONE. 

I sit herci, where so oft I've sat with thee^ 

I watch the settling sun 
Sink grandly down beyond the purpled sea ;. 

The wavelets still roll on, 
And birds still twitter in the apple-tree ; 

But thou art gone. 

O fairer than this golden summer day 

And bright as yonder sphere, 
Thy young soul took its flight from earth 
away ! 
No more shalt thou appear 
To soothe my grief. What homage may I 
pay. 
Save prayer and tear? 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 27 

X. 

SONNET. 



(Mother Angela — nee Ewing — died on a Friday at W 
a. m., March 4th, 1887.) 



On Friday, one brief hour before the noon, 
The lowly Nazarene, with thorn-crowned 

Head, 
Wan, weak, blood-bruised by cruel blows, 
was led 
From Pilate's halls to Calvary: eftsoon 
The Lord was crucified. For that rich Boon, 
The Life He gave us, countless saints have 

shed 
Warm, grateful tears, and countless lives 
have sped 
In sacrifice: — such, not inopportune, 
The life thou gavest to Christ's sacred cause. 
Sweet Mother Angela, whose saintly tread. 
Obedient as the sea-tides to the moon, 
Sought God thro' life, nor swerved from 
Heaven's laws. — 
Angels were near when thy bright spirit fled 
On Friday, one brief hour before the noon. 



28 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 
XI. 

GREETING. 

To Fr. Brady, S. J., Provincial. 
(Holy Cross, 1881.) 

We gather here within the college hall 

With happy hearts and faces free from 
sorrow. 
Without, the thick'ning shades of evening fall 
Like lonely sprites that vainly seek to 
borrow 
From earth its cheerfulness. We feel no loss. 
A beaming presence maketh glad our 
meeting. 
We hail tonight a friend of Holy Cross 

And welcome him. Provincial, hear our 
greeting ! 

We've waited long thy coming. Happy hours 
Have lightly sped nor left a shade behind 
them 
Till autumn's faded leaves and summer's 
flowers 
Lie buried 'neath the icy chains that bind 
them. 
We've waited long and, like a golden dream, 
Fair Expectation, gilding all things bright, 
Hath cast thro' months of toil her sunny 
beam 
Upon the proud rejoicement of tonight. 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 29 

For once a year fair Spring adorns the land, 
(A sweeter guest ne'er passed the young 
year's portals) ; 
And once a year from Winter's frosty hand 
Leaps Christmas, making glad the hearts 
of mortals; 
And once a year the Summer's placid gloss 

Is rippled by the insects' drowsy humming; 
And once a year the heart of Holy Cross 
Beats high with pride and pleasure at thy 
coming. 

We greet thee lovingly, for all things show 

The kindly feelings to us that thou bearest. 
We greet thee joyfully, for well we know 

That in our happiness thou ever sharest. 
We greet thee for the honour of this fete 

(For months of classic toil a meet consoler) 
And for the dignity that clothes thy state, 

O Leader of the Children of Loyola! 



30 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 
XII. 

LONELINESS.* 

I have been happy for a score of years; 
I have been filled with joy and freed from 
woe. 
Now to my eyes springs up a fount of tears, 
Now in my heart full sadly re-appears 
The dreaded loneliness of long ago, 
The same old loneliness that made tears 
flow 
Long, long ago. 

When birds cease singing and the sun has set 
And soft winds sway the branches to and 
fro 
And earth embraces with a vague regret 
Day's parting charms, that linger even yet, 
And twilight's shadows settle o'er us low, 
It comes, the loneliness that made tears 
flow 
Long, long ago. 

** Better have loved and lost," the poet, sings, 
"Than ne'er have loved at all." 'Tis 
even so; 
For from true love a nobler manhood springs 
And, tho' the soul beloved hath taken wings 
And left us, sorely stricken 'neath the blow, 
We ne'er forget that form we used to know 
Long, long ago. 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 31 

That well-loved form, whose every deed and 

word 

Were beautiful with virtue's lovely glow; 

Whose simple trusting judgment never erred; 

Whose firmly planted footsteps never stirred 

From duty's steep, straight-forward path. 

What tho' 
It left us sad and lonely here below 
Long years ago? 

Its memory lingers yet. And it is sweet 

To think of those we love. 'Tis sweet to grow 
Content with loss, and feel our sorrows fleet 
In silence from us, and to bravely greet 
Death's steps, approaching steadily, tho' 

slow. — 
How sweet a friend is Death ! He seemed a foe 
Some years ago. 

Sweet is the sundown of our hopes and fears, 
The twilight of our mingled joy and woe. 

Sweet is the autumn of our faded years. 

And sadly sweet the hour when re-appears 
The loneliness we felt so long ago. 
The same old loneliness that made tears flow 
Long, long ago. 

♦"Loneliness' ' (see preceding page) with five other pieces 
of mine was printed by mistake in the "Poems and 
Prose Works" of the late lamented Rev. Richard J. 
McHugh (issued for subscribers in 1896 after Father 
McHugh's death by the John B. Clarke Co., of Man- 
chester, N. H.) The pieces of mine included by mis- 
take and thus credietd to my old friend Father Mc- 
Hugh, besides "Loneliness," are "The Ti*amp," "To 
My Canary," "Nationhood," "Day-Dream" and "The 
Light-House." (See "Poems of Prose-works of Rev. 
Richard J. McHugh, B. A., M. A.," pages 93 to 103), 



32 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 

XIII. 

FOUR HYMNS TO SAINT ANNE. 

{From the French). 



1. MORNING STAR. 

(Etoile du Matin). 



(Refrain) — 

Kind Saint Anne, protect thou mef 
Guide my bark upon life's river f 
Save me from the wreck forever t 

Kind Saint Anne, I hope in thee! 

When the storm-waves swelling high 
Come to threaten my salvation, 
Calm the tempest's fluctuation; 

Change to blue the gloomy sky. 

Shoals are hidden while the night 
Throws its pitchy darkness o'er me; 
Touch them, lay them bare before me, 

O thou ever-shining light! 

Yet if ever, — God forefend! — 

Sin's foul shipwreck should undo me, 
Cast the plank of Grace unto me ; 

Lead me onward to the end. 

When from wind and cloud there start 
Sudden dangers round me swarming, 
Grant that fierce temptation's storming 

May but purify my heart. 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 33 

And when from this lower air 

Death's resistless beck hath won me, 
Morning-Star, still shine upon me! 

Sweet Saint Anne, still list my prayer! 



2. THE HOLY NAME, SAINT ANNE. 

{Le Nom de Sainte Anne). 

Saint Anne! — How that name revealeth 

All our bright mem'ries of joy! 
How soft on the ear it stealeth 

In melody without alloy! 
In our sadness and our sorrow 

That holy name soothes care and strife. 
From its tender grace we borrow 

Peace for this stormy life. 

Saint Anne! — Name whose potent sounding 

Back to his home in the fire 
Hurleth, all his trust confounding, 

Foul Lucifer in hopeless ire: — 
While life's shadows black impending 

Oppress my soul with woe or shame, 
May my tongue unto life's ending 

Call upon thee. Sweet Name! 

Saint Anne! — ^What a charm maternal 

In that pure name doth abide, 
Replete with God's grace supernal 

Tho' dangers press on every side. — 
When my soul, death's pangs defying, 

Sweet Name, shall struggle to be free, 
May my fond lips still in dying 

Close while they murmur thee! 



34 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 
3. RECOURSE TO SAINT ANNE. 

{Recours a Sainte Anne). 

O gentle Mother 
Before thee while we pray, 

Thine and none other 
The love we claim today. 
Earth's dangers lie before us; 
Vile Satan fain would lower^us. 
Watch ever o'er us 
Till life hath passed away. 

Mother most tender, 
In all our griefs and fears 

Be our defender 

And guide us thro' our years. 

The weight of their distresses 

Thy children dear oppresses. 

Grant thy caresses 

'To wipe away our tears. 

God watches o'er us, 
We're His in ev'ry part, 

Pray to Him for us 
And offer Him our heart. 
To warm our tepid spirit 
O let us but inherit 

Thy priceless merit 
Till hellish foes depart. 

E'er humbly bowing 
Upon thy strength we lean. 

List to us vowing, 
O Mother of our Queen, 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 35 

With warm prayers to entreat thee, 
With praises e'er to greet thee, 
Till we shall meet thee 
In heaven's realms serene. 



4. HYMN TO SAINT ANNE. 

(Cantique a Sainte Anne). 
(Refrain) — 

Kind Saint Anne, before thee kneeling^ 

While life's shadows round us fall, 
To thy mother-heart appealing, 
In our needs on thee we call. 

Hail! Thou Mother of the Maiden 
Who did bear our Saviour Lord! 

Hymns with thy bright praises laden 
We will sing in sweet accord. 

Legends tell that Jesus rested 
In His Childhood on thy knee 

While the Virgin manifested 
All her daughter-love for thee. 

When death's angel came to woo thee, 
Jesus stroked thy silvered hair, 

Opened Limbo up unto thee 

And prepared thy dwelling there^ 

Now to him who seeks thy favour, 
Heaven's grace e'er fioweth free; 

For the power that Jesus gave her,. 
Mary giveth unto thee! 



36 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 

XIV. 

ST. BERNARD'S MOTHER. 

Ever faintly, faintly breathing, 

Fading to her death, 
Lieth holy Bernard's mother, 

Sweet Elizabeth. 
Round her couch with woeful faces 

Each devoted son: 
Guy and Gerard, Andrew, Nivard 

And the favored one. 



"Spouse ! " — The knight, her noble husband, 

Gentle draweth nigh. — 
*'Thou hast fought earth's battles. Hence- 
forth 

Fight for Him on high! — 
Guy, my eldest, yield to heaven 

All that hath enticed. — 
Bernard, First-Born of my Spirit! 

Lead them unto Christ!" 

So she fainteth, Bernard's mother. 

Sweet Elizabeth, 
Gasping with calm, whitened features, 

Fainteth into death. 
And they gaze upon her body 

Motionless and still. 
But unto her soul each answers: 

"Pleasing God, I will!" 



VERSE5 OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 37 

In the cloistered "beauteous valley," 

In remote Clairvaux, 
Six tall monks 'mid prayer and fasting 

Hie them to and fro 
Under Prior Bernard, serving 

God with every breath. — 
Rest her soul, their gentle mother, 

Sweet Elizabeth! 



38 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 
XV. 

THE PAGAN PHILOSOPHER'S 
QUESTION. 

O Past, forever gone! 
How fair the fringe of thy departing dress 
Receding, fading, growing less and less! 
How sadly kind thy voice's dying notes 
As down the years' dark avenue soft floats 
Their lingering echo! How supremely sweet 
The perfume left behind, as in retreat 

Thou movest on and on. 

O Love, forever fled. 
Sweet fire of human hearts, that lights and 

warms 
And moulds them all-defiant to life's storms! 
Whence comes thy spark divine and whither 

goes 
Its beaming radiance when no longer glows 
Its light on earth? O does thy presence thrill 
The dear departed? Art thou burning still 

Amongst the silent dead? 

O Life, that passest by. 
What is thy spell, thy golden mystery? 
Whence blows the wondrous air, the breath 

of thee, 
Which makes us living clay ? What potent force 
Of nature thro' our burning veins doth course? 
What undiscovered, mute electric flood 
Doth vivify the channels of our blood 

Until we gasp and die? 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 39 

O Death ! Thou comest fast ! 
Dark crowner of the combats that we wage, 
Unmoved rewarder of our pilgrimage! 
Thou comest fast, and dimly we behold 
Thy form approaching with broad ample fold 
Of blackest drapery. And thou dost hear 
Each question that we a^k; and full and clear 

Wilt answer them at last. 



40 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 

XVI. 

THE PAGAN PHILOSOPHER'S 
ANSWER 



"'Cause of causes, pity me!', 'Causa, causarum^ 
miserere mei! ', was a favorite ejaculation of the pagan 
philosopher, Cicero" (old anecdote book). 



'Twas night; for darkness filled the air 
And life was stilled. He lay at rest 

And thro' his spacious lattice-square 
The sea-air poured upon his breast, 

The fragant night-breath of the sea 

That laps the shores of Italy. 

'Twas night; for Christ had not been born 
And earth was wrapped in that dense gloom 

Which came before the radiant morn 
Of faith. He lay within his room, 

One of the few, whose mind, unblurred, 

Had compassed all, nor longer erred; 

One of the few, whose vision, healed 
From error's blindness, clear did see 

In brightest light, tho' unrevealed. 
The oneness of the Deity. 

He mused and fervent reasoning broke 

Night's stillness and he softly spoke: 

"It must be so. I can but see 
The chain of Thy causality. 
O Cause of causes, pity me ! 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 41 

"I grope in darkness, sad and slow; 
I see Thy works where'er I go. 
I worship Thee, but do not know. 

"Yet why complain? Weak mortals we. 
Who see, and know not why they see; 
And shall we think to fathom Thee? 

**In yonder blue each silv'ry star 
Beams soft and sends his light afar. 
What sage will tell me whence they are? 

"Without my walls, beyond my land 
The waves make music on the strand: 
But why, I cannot understand. 

"Then shall I hope to fathom Thee, 
Thou Ruler of infinity? — 
O Cause of causes, pity me! 

"This earth, whose smallest charms entrance 

My soul until my every glance 

Speaks praise, could never spring from chance. 

"A matchless skill hath formed it fair; 
A boundless power made sea and air 
And left its footprints everywhere. 

"The ocean-tides that ebb and flow, 
The seasons, as they come and go. 
The day and night and all things show- 



42 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 

**A wondrous method, fair, refined, 
To every weakest creature kind; 
And method ever springs from mind. 

**Who made it? He who wears the crown 
Among weak gods, whose head bows down 
Abashed before proud luno's frown? 

'''The henpecked husband of the skies, 
Whose marriage-woes make laughter rise 
And sparkle from celestial eyes? 

""No; since existence first began 
It was a law in nature's plan; 
Who has a wife, is but a man; 

"'And Jupiter is but the vain 
Weak offspring of a poet's brain. 
With human joys and human pain. 

^'Our gods but act what we rehearse. 
And Saturn's spouse could never nurse 
The builder of a universe. 

**Our feeble gods are unto Thee 
As dreams unto reality. 
O Cause of causes, pity me ! 

*'0 art Thou kind, as well as great. 
And may I hope this cheerless state 
Will yield to some more happy fate? 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 43 

**And that, when Hfe hath passed away, 
My soul, outliving night, may play 
Within the sunlight of Thy day? 

"Whate'er my future hath in store^ 
My present loves Thee more and more. 
Thee only doth my soul adore. 

"My will doth bow; my mind doth see; 
My very being tend to Thee. 
O Cause of causes, pity me!" 



44 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 
XVII. 
OLD ST. MARY'S. 



(St. Mary's, Fall River, Mass., now St. Mary's Ca- 
thedral, was just fifty years old when it was consecrated 
on Sept. 7th, 1901. 



House of mercy, house of prayer, 
House of worship and salvation! 

Incense smoke and organ blare, 

Floating in the holy air, 
Symbolize thy Consecration. 

Bloom of flowers, gleam of lights 

Decorate the solemn rites; 

Mitred pontiff, stoled priest 

Gather at the joyous feast; 

While thy children's fond emotion 

And thy people's glad devotion 

Flood thee with a human ocean. 

House of refuge, house of rest, 
Shelter to the soul o'erweary, 
Haven of the pierced breast. 
Sorrow-wounded, care-oppressed, 

When life's day is dark and dreary! 
Hearts bowed down with misery, 
Drag their weight of woe to thee; 
Spirits smitten 'neath the rod, 
Fly to thee, oh! House of God! 
And while earth's wild tumult varies,- 
Time's caprices, life's vagaries, — 
Calm thou standest, old St. Mary's. 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 45 

Fifty years, in peace and war, 

Hast thou stood, "a thing of beauty," 

Thro' the wrongs our souls abhor 

And the rights they battle for 
Pointing us the way of duty. 

Fifty years within thy fane 

Infant souls from Adam's stain 

Have been cleansed; and fifty years 

Penitential sighs and tears, 

True confession, warm contrition 

Have obtained in glad fruition 

Absolution and remission. 

Here the child-soul had its growth, 
Confirmation, First Communion. 
Here did lovers, nothing loath. 
Join their hands and plight their troth, 

One in sacramental union. 
Here the sad procession marched 
Thro' the long aisles Gothic-arched 
When the death-cold corpse was borne 
To the tomb, and they who mourn. 
Prayed that to their dear one, shriven 
From his sins, might soon be given 
God's repose, the light of heaven. 

Fifty years, thro' misery 

And thro' joy, would high and lowly 
Bow them down in worship free 
'Neath thy shrine, where dwelleth He 

Who is Holy, Holy, Holy; 
Fifty years their grateful love 



46 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 

Hath been wafted far above 
While the Sacrifice Divine 
Of the mystic bread and wine 
By God's priest was celebrated 
Solemnly and angels, sated 
With their bHss, attendant waited. 

Now, — as when a postulant 

After months of earnest trial 
Or a novice, ministrant 
'Neath God's laws, 'mid solemn chant 

Speaks her vows of self-denial, — 
Now, thou honoured Gothic pile, — 
Pointed arch and pillared aisle, — 
In all dignity and state 
(Finished thy novitiate), 
With they people's jubilation 
Now advance to higher station ! 
Now receive thy Consecration! 

Tabernacle, where doth reign 
Heaven's King in Real Presence! 

Altar, where the Lord doth deign. 

As He died for us in pain. 

So in love to take His pleasaunce! 

Gothic vault of light subdued! 

Storied windows glory-hued! 

Depth of nave and breadth of choir! 

Length of sky-line! Height of spire! 

Old St. Mary's! — ^To approve thee 

How doth God smile down above thee! — 

And thy children, — how they love thee! 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 47 
XVIII. 
FAREWELL. 

To Very Rev. Father Hogan, S. S., First 
President St. John's Seminary, 
Boston, 1888. 

Dear Father Hogan, while night's shadows fall 
Upon our Alma Mater's honoured walls, 
While birds good-night to one another call 

In yonder pines, and list each other's calls. 
While nature's gentle breast is overflowing 
With peace, the daylight gone, the twilight 

going, 
One last time in this dear, familiar place 
Where evening's shadows have so often 
found you, 
One last time (for a transient summer's 
space) 
You sit, with us your children all around you. 

We meet to part; for when another day 

Has risen from the fruitful eastern skies, 
Its sad-winged hours shall bear you far away. 

Yet Memory still, when lost unto our eyes. 
Will hold you in unfaltering devotion. 
And Fancy shall be with you on the ocean ; 
Shall follow where the waves toss wild and 
free; 

Shall mark your heart leap forward to its 
sireland 
When Neptune lowers his crest to let you see 

The rising shores, far-off, of holy Ireland. 



48 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 

"** Farewell — a word that must be and hath 
been 
A sound which makes us linger — yet fare- 
well!" 
Thus spake the soul of Byron, and within 
Our hearts tonight his language seems to 
dwell 
Most fittingly, as in its proper dwelling. 
What means Farewell? It means the bosom 

swelling 
With hope and trust, with wish and earnest 
prayer 
That God, Who guards His Own thro' joy 
and grieving. 
Would deign to grant His all - benignant 
care 
And love unto the dear one we are leaving. 

And such our farewell. May the course you 
steer 
Be tranquil, with serenest skies above! 
May Ireland ope her arms to give you cheer 

In all the fervour of her peerless love! 
May sunny France, her pulse in rapture 

beating 
Send forth to you her fondest, warmest 

greeting! 
May God protect you! Till, when nature 
dons 
New hues and puts her autumn robes upon 
her, 
You stand once more within revered St. John's 
For further years of usefulness and honour! 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 49 

For further years, and labours which befit 
Your lofty place, till length of days has 
crowned you 
With virtues promised guerdon, and you sit 
In heaven with your children all around 
you ! 
Dear Father Hogan, thus our thoughts 

tonight 
Arise commingled in us, sad and bright, 
At your departure, while from deep within 

Our very hearts the parting doth outswell: 
** Farewell — a word that must be and hath 
been 
A sound which makes us linger — ^yet 
farewell!" 



50 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 
XIX. 

AT CORPUS CHRISTI. 

The sunlit, storied windows fling 

Their splendour on the Gothic nave. 
The organ peals, the censers swing 

The lights burn high, the banners wave. 
And frankincense and prayer arise 
While Thou, oh! Lord of Paradise, 
Art borne before our raptured eyes; — 

Art borne about us, kneeling here 

In worship on this gladsome feast, 
Raised high in reverent love and fear 

Before him by Thy white-haired priest 
With children strewing flowers the whiles 
The long procession grandly files 
Adown and up the pillared aisles. 

E'en thus of old from Galgal plain 

Thy Ark with seemly pomp and show 
Was borne by Josue's priestly train 

About the walls of Jericho: — 
Seven times in military rout 
With trumpet blare and warlike shout 
They compassed all the walls about. 

Within was terror and dismay 

And rampant sin and shame and blight* 
Without was courage for the fray 

And trust in Thy resistless might. — 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 51. 

Seven times about the guilty town 
Thy Ark was borne; and at Thy frown 
The walls of Jericho crashed down. 

Oh ! Lord, hurl down the walls of sin, 

The battlements of misery 
And selfishness, that fence me in 

And bar my guilty soul from Thee! 
Fight in me, till Thy foes depart. 
Ope wide the gates, whose King Thou art,. 
And triumph in my conquered heart! 



52 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 
XX. 

LIFE AND DEATH. 

What, old Comrade, art thou sighing? 

Wherefore sigh? 
We're quite old enough for dying, 

Thou and I. 
While we sit each other eyeing 
Younger hearts are madly vieing 
For our place. And Time is flying. 

Let him fiy! 

Each his turn. The days, retreating, 

Pass to night. 
And the changeful seasons, fleeting, 

Take their flight. 
And the winter clouds are sleeting 
Out their lives. And flowers are meeting 
Gloomy death with solemn greeting 

In the light. 

All the world is gone or going 

To the tomb, 
Death's full bins are overflowing 

With its doom. 
Death shall reap what life is sowing: 
Age, its wisdom deep bestowing, 
Happy youth, and beauty glowing 

In its bloom. 

Life is brief as infant's breathing; 

Death is long. 
Life is weak as sea-foam's seething; 

Death is strong. 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 53 

Life is dreary prose, unsheathing 
All the ills of birth's bequeathing; 
Death is verse, its flowerlets wreathing, 
Death is song. 

'Tis a garden with sweet, vernal 

Blossoms rife, 
Free from all earth's cares diurnal, 

Free from strife. 
'Tis a seed that hides the kernel 
Of fair peace and joys supernal ; 
And it burgeoneth eternal 

Into life. 

Ah ! We blunder, sadly sighing, 

Thou and I, 
That old Time forsooth is flying. 

Let him fly! 
To the soul on Christ relying 
Life is sweet, but sweeter dying; 
Faith his solace, when descrying 

Death is nigh. 



54 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 
XXI. 

FIDELITY. 

Wlien early twilight o'er us falls 

In radiance calm and sweet, 
Two grey hoods and two old shawls 

Move down the village street; 
With lengthy steps on left and right 

In stately grace they stalk; 
And I pause to greet them every night 

As I take my evening walk. 

Then from under the hoods of grey 

Faces wrinkled and worn 
Beam with smiles of a by-gone day, 

And to my ears are borne 
Accents in a piping tone 

That once was soft and sweet; 
And the aged forms move slowly on 

Along the village street. 

Once when the crescent moon shone bright 

Queen of the evening sky, 
I met them 'neath its silv'ry light 

Where calmly sleeping lie 
The dead. And standing on the sward 

Within that lonely vale. 
With unpremeditated word 

They told their simple tale. 

"The selfsame hour beheld our birth 

And we were bred together 
And hand in hand thro' grief and mirth, 

Thro' fair and cloudy weather, 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 55 

Thro' all the shadows of our way, 

Thro' all its joy and sorrow 
We've walked, nor feared the present day 

Nor worried for the morrow. 

"Why come we here? Twin sisters we 

And Oh! we love each other I 
But dear to her and dear to me 

The memory of our mother! 
At twilight's hour one autumn day, — 

'Twas thirty years ago, — 
Her spirit fled its house of clay. 

Her bones rest here below. 

"'And at her grave on bended knee 

Our prayers we send on high 
That light perpetual may be 

Her lot beyond the sky. 
And e'er for thirty weary years 

When twilight dims the day 
We freshen with our heart-sprung tears 

The grass above her clay. 

"For when the sun makes all things bright, 

Hope shineth pure and fair; 
And 'neath the gloomy wings of night 

Are gathered dark despair 
And all the foul, unshapely sins; — 

But memory hath full power 
When toil has ceased and rest begins 

At twilight's holy hour." 



56 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 
XXII. 

BEAUTY IN ALL THINGS. 

(Nocturne). 

From the ruined castle's walls 
Downward slopes the grassy hill. 
At its base the river flows 
Sweetly singing as it goes 

Till into the sea it falls. 

Here nor life nor human breath ; 
All the air is hushed and still. 
Truly Nature's self might seem 
In a sleep without a dream, 

In the very sleep of death. 

But at mignight (thrice a year) 
Whilst the hill is clothed in storm, 
From the deepest gloom of night 
Boometh thunder, flasheth light; 

And the light endureth clear. 

*Tis a wondrous, lasting beam 
And it moulds itself to form 
Superhuman, ravishing, 
Fairer than the fairest thing 

Poet's soul did ever dream! 

O the spot were hard to seek 
But if erring mortal ken 

Might avail to compass there, 
You would see the vision fair; 

You would hear the vision speak: 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 57 

"I am Beauty" (sayeth he) 
"And before the birth of men 
I was born, and when the last 
Of the race of men has passed, 
Still in Vision I will be. 

"I was on the grassy hill 

E'er the castle crowned its height, 

When the pines each other wooed 

Lovers in the solitude 
And the dryads had their will. 
I was present when outpoured 
Gentle dame and lordly knight 

From the castle's portals fair 

To the chase, or thro' the air 
On its prey the falcon soared. 

"I am present even yet 

In the ruins crumbling walls 

While the rushing storms downpour 
And the booming thunders roar 

And the winds its arches fret. 

I am Beauty, and I play 

0\^er bridal-wreaths and palls. 
Thou shalt see me in the bloom 
Of the flowers, and in the tomb 

Of thy race, and in decay!" 



58 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 
XXIII. 
DAY-DREAM. 

(by an exile of ERIN.) 



(See Note to "Loneliness.") 

Stony the road was and cheerless the weather ; 
Bleak clouds hung o'er us and winter winds 
wailed ; 
Two of us, trudging the mountain together, 
Safe in our friendship, tho' other things 
failed. 
^'Courage!", Franz cried; "tho' so high we 

ne'er come, it 
Proves we love duty, fear duty, and from it 
Would not depart, tho' we ne'er reach the 
summit; 
Would not depart tho' we sleep in the 
snow!" 
Courage I took, and we tramped on together. 
Smiled at the windstorm and sneered at the 

weather, 
Called it a ghost with less weight than a 
feather 
Striving to fright us and keep us below. 
Ah ! I loved Franz for his spirit did cheer me, 
Held me from weakness and faint-hearted 
ills. 
Sweet was the valley that nestled so near me 
Over the hills! 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 59 

Years have sped on, and my spirit is fainter; 
Grief-clouds have met me and drenched 
me with woe; 
Memory still, like a merciless painter, 
Pictures my sorrows wherever I go; 
Sorrows that mar the content of the present, 
Lead me to envy the lot of the peasant, 
Bid me to every sad query say yes, and 

Murmur fore'er at my pitiful fate. 
So human life were a steep, rugged mountain 
Here and there softened by streamlet or 

fountain. 
Every slow step towards a grand total 
counting 
Where one's best efforts might be but too 
late. 
O for the rest that is promised unto us ! 

O for eternity's gladness, that fills! 
O for the glories of heavens, which woo us 
Over the hills! 

Yet we must stay. We must dwell on this 

planet 

Till we are called to our birthright above. 

Beautiful Earth ! We must love it, and can it 

Pay us with coldness instead of with love? 

No ! We're a nation ; we're millions of brothers 

Neighbors, and sisters, and fathers and 

mothers. 
Friends of our country, and just men, and 
others. 
Striving to make her a land of the free! 
"Erin" her name and a martyr's her features. 



60 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 

Stranger, if ever their beauty should meet 

yours, 
Sweeter by far than fair earth's other creatures 
Would they shine to you as they shine to 
me! 
Upward e'er striving, — her story will teach 
it — 
Hers for long ages th' endeavour that 
thrills. 
Sweet will her freedom be when she shall 
reach it 

Over the hills! 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 61 
XXIV. 
FOURTH OF JULY IN TYROL. 



(1884, Innsbruck University). 

A summer day, a day of golden weather 
And azure skies and zephyrs soft and 
bland ; 
Some twenty students gathered here together 

Who hail Columbia as their motherland. 
Young ardour vapours like the spray of 
fountains 
While thro' the meadows merry voices call 
And from yon haughty old Tyrolean moun- 
tains 
Come, echoed back, the war-cries of base- 
ball! 

And then the banquet when the game is 
ended, — 
'Tis Independence Day, — in fair Tyrol, — 
The toasts, the speeches, the young voices 
blended 
In patriotic chorus o'er the bowl. 
And where the Hapsburg eagles haunt their 
eyrie. 
The Stars and Stripes are floating in the 
sun! 
And where Andreas Hofer kept him wary, 
How grandly rings the name of Washington ! 



62 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 

Ah ! Love of Country ! Thou art shining 
brightest 
When blood outpours from hearts that 
burn with thee. 
In weariness and hardships, thou del igh test 
The exile forced from tyrant's wrath to 
flee. 
At home, abroad, alike in prince and peasant 
Thou flourishest, thou growest more and 
more. 
And truly too and warmly art thou present 
With willing exiles from their native shore. 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 63 
XXV. 
THE LIGHT-HOUSE. 



(See Note to "Loneliness.") 

Where scraggy rocks lie hidden deep 

Beneath the salt-sea spray, 
Where mermen joyous revels keep 
When wind and wave are hushed to sleep 

Like children tired from play, 
Where strong- winded birds float wild and free 

Above the shoaly strands. 
One-half in air, one-half in sea 
The light-house stands. 

And when erect he meets my sight 

Above the white-capped wave 
And when I see his rugged might 
Forever battling for the right, 

Fore'er intent to save 
The luckless sailor wandering 

The trackless waste alone, 
I cannot deem him but a thing 
Of brick and stone. 

So when the sun illumes the sky 

And gilds the heaving main. 
In massive grandeur towering high 
He seems unto my fancy's eye 

A knight of Neptune's train 



64 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 

Who seeks the realms of light and air, 

An exile from below, 
For countless years condemned to bear 
His weight of woe. 

But when night broods upon the sea 
And sombrous vapours creep 

Athwart the stars, and winds are free 

To fret the waves, he seems to me 
The watchman of the deep; 

And cheerly thro' the gloom he glows, 
A Cyclops in his might. 

Whose bulky forehead proudly shows 
One eye of light. 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 65 
XXVI. 
NEW-YEAR'S EVE. 



''For the old year lies adying" (Tennyson). 

New- Year's Eve! and from the welkin 

Brightly shine the lamps of night. 
Chaste and cold the moon is beaming, 
Dazzling white the snow is gleaming 

With her sheeny, pallid light. 
And the mighty winds are sighing, 

Chanting low a monarch's knell, 
For "the Old Year lies adying." — 

Old Year, Old Year, f are-thee-well f 

New- Year's Eve! and in the moonhght 

Spectres flitter to and fro! 
For his dissolution longing 
Ghosts of by-gone Years are thronging 

Round their brother, lying low. 
Old Year, where no evils seek it 

May thy spirit happy dwell! 
Softly, tenderly we speak it: 

Old Year, Old Year, fare-thee-well! 

New- Year's Eve ! The bells are pealing 

And they chime not moan nor groan- 
Happy faces, merry voices 
Tell the skies that earth rejoices. 

For a new king mounts his throne. 
Let them hail him e'er so gladly; 

Let the bells their anthems swell; 
I at least will murmur sadly: 

Old Year, Old Year, fare-thee-well! 



66 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 

XXVII. 
MEMORIAL DAY. 



(Philomathic Club, Holy Cross College, 1880.) 

When each hill and grove is ringing with the 

songster's magic lay. 
When the perfume-laden breezes speak the 

presence of bright May, 
When the streamlets, gently rippling, ever 

ever onward run. 
From his bed in eastern ocean upward leaps 

the mighty sun. 

And his rays are brightly gilding all the city's 

glittering towers, 
Flashing o'er her sparkling waters, playing 

'mid her scented flowers. 
Why is hushed the din of labour? Whither 

traffic's turmoil fled? 
Look ! A Nation fondly weeping o'er a Nation's 

soldier-dead. 

When the flowers of spring were blooming in 

the ne'er-forgotten past. 
On a land that calmly rested fiercely rang the 

trumpet's blast. 
And their faces paled, who heard it, and their 

pulses throbbed in awe, 
For the reign of peace was broken by the iron 

hand of war. 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 67 

Yet they gathered bravely, truly; deemed him 

base who dared to lag 
When the clouds of dark Disunion lowered 

upon his country's flag; 
Bade farewell to friend and kindred; blessed 

the spots where hearth-fires burned; 
Marched to meet their country's foes. And 

some, alas! have ne'er returned. 

In the grassy, silent churchyard, where the 

willows meet the sky, 
Calmly resting from their labours side by side 

the warriors lie. 
And the breezes moan above them and the 

clouds of heaven weep 
And the grave-stones, pointing upward, stand 

like sentries o'er their sleep. 

With the Nation's colors streaming, while the 

echoing cannon boom, 
Ye, who love the soldier's glory, decorate the 

soldier's tomb. 
Chant the solemn Miserere. With the prayer 

the spirit craves, 
With the tear that mourns their parting, strew 

the flowers upon their graves ; 
They shall wither in the sunlight e'er another 

day has sped; 
But the glory of the sleepers shall not mingle 

with the dead. 



68 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 

Philomathic, Philomathic, in the battlefield 

of life 
May thy sons be ever numbered 'mid the 

heroes of the strife! 
Calm and fearless e'er advancing thro' the 

dangers of their way, 
May their noble deeds be worthy of a bright 

Memorial Day! 
Philomathic, Philomathic, may thy joys be 

pure and bright 
As that sunset! And upon thee may mis- 
fortunes fall as light 
As the shades of night are falling o'er the 

sunshine of the day 
While yon rooks are softly calling from their 

dwellings far away! 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 69 
XXVIII. 
NATIONHOOD. 

(by an exile of erin). 



(See Note to Loneliness.) 

In timeworn canvas on my study wall 

A lovely maiden's painted form is standing. 
About her neck soft auburn ringlets fall 
To shade her features, gentle yet com- 
manding, 
And on her queenly head, with jewels bright 
A silvery crown is flashing cheerful light, 
E'en as the moon when thro' the summer 
night 
She calmly beams, the fleecy clouds dis- 
banding. 

No scroll reveals the ancient painter's name 
Nor has he named his work. But to my 
seeming 

His hand must be not all unknown to fame, 
So fine the form upon that canvas gleaming, 

The sweetly tender face so kind and good! 

I named her "Erin in her nationhood" 

While in the light of long ago I stood 

Before the splendour of her beauty 
dreaming. 



70 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO, 

And "Erin in her nationhood" still rings 
Thro' all my soul whene'er with face 
uplifted 
I gaze upon the canvas, and it brings 

Unto my mind her glories that have drifted 
Into the past: her saints of other days; 
Her scholars, whose bright radiance pierced 

the haze 
Of Europe's ignorance; her bards, whose lays 
Still haunt this world-stage whence their 
scenes are shifted. 

How more than sweet a word is "nationhood" 
And 'neath its sound how full a meaning 
lieth! 
For its fair sake the wise, the brave, the good 
Have dying won the fame that never dieth 
And passed to glorious rest. For it men die 
E'en now, and ever shall till from on high 
The angel's trumpet soundeth thro' the sky 
And from its myriad graves mankind 
replieth. 

While in a country nationhood remains 

To shed its hallowed radiance upon her, — 
Tho' writhing 'neath the weight of foreign 
chains 
And fainter waning day by day and 
wanner, — 
She stands, a captive maiden, sore oppressed 
By countless ills, yet in her virtue blessed 
And guarding still within her spotless breast 
The priceless treasure of her virgin honour. 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 71 

And such art thou, my country, whom I see 
With fancy's eye in yonder timeworn 
painting! 
Oppression's blight hath long o'ershadowed 
thee 
With bonds and stripes thy free-born beauty 
tainting. 
Thy lifelong agony no respite knows, 
Thy very lifeblood slowly from thee flows 
Till, crushed and bruised beneath its bitter 
woes, 
Thy tender, loving heart is nigh to fainting. 

Yet still thou livest; still thro' every vein 
Bright nationhood its balmy flood is pour- 
ing; 
And soon will Freedom wipe away the stain 

Of slavery, thy long-lost peace restoring; 
For Freedom's self will hear a nation's cries 
And come to thee and dry thy streaming eyes 
And on proud wings thy genius shall arise 
Above the very stars, towards heaven 
soaring. 



72 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 

XXIX. 
AT SEVENTY-FOUR. 



Birth-Day Greeting to a Lady of That Age. 

I am wondering tonight, while my thoughts 
wander free 
O'er this life's stormy ocean from shore to 
shore, 
Just what sort of a personage I shall be 
If I ever reach seventy-four! 

And my mind halts uneasy 'twixt fear and 
hope, 
As the twilight hangs doubting 'twixt night 
and day. 
"'Twere a long road to travel, nor easy to cope 
With the dangers that lie in the way. 

Yet the pathway had blossomed with pleasures 
refined 
Tho' the labours of centuries moistened my 
brow, 
Were I happy and healthy in body and mind 
At the close of my journey, as thou! 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 73 
XXX. 
GARFIELD. 



(Elberon, 1881.) 

I'd love to name him ''great" and "grand": 

But tho' 'twere done in sooth 
By every rhymer in the land, 

I 'needs must speak the truth; 
So here I sing but what I know 
Of him who now is lying low. 

In peace his life was kind and fair, 

Untarnished by a crime ; 
And tho' his path was full of care 

Amid the sands of time, 
He lived among his fellow-men 
An honest, guileless citizen. 

Then in the flash of swords and guns 

He shone out clear and bright, 
Not least among the mighty ones 

That battled for the right; 
Yet few the laurels given by fame 
To deck the glory of his name. 

His nation called. He could but hear 

Her mandate and obey. 
Then thousands hastened to revere 

The magic of his sway. 
Yet, tho' he wisely ruled and well, 
For name and fame too soon he fell. 



74 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 

Then wherefore call him "great" and "grand' 

Now he has reached the goal? 
No deed of might has left his hand; 

No genius fired his soul; 
No conquered world, no nation freed, 
Can claim for him the hero's meed. 

No; rather, since his course is run, 

This simple legend tell 
Upon his tomb: "Here lieth one 

Who did his duty well." 
And bear his corse in grandeur dressed 
Unto its place; and let him rest. 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 75 



XXXI. 
THE ROSE OF FRIENDSHIP. 

While the soil is fresh and fertile, 
E'er the spring of life depart, 

Let me pl^nt the rose of friendship 
In the garden of your heart. 

May it flourish thro' the springtime, 
Thro' the summer and the fall! 

And when hoar-frost chills the flowerlets 
And bleak winter withers all, 

(While good angels stand beside you 

Driving evil ones apart,) 
May fair friendship's flower still flourish 

In the garden of your heart! 



76 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 

XXXII. 
TO A COLLEGE FRIEND'S MOTHER. 



{By Request.) 

Thy form was ne'er' beheld by me, 

And yet, whate'er befall, 
I know I'll ever think of thee 

As one whom I may call 
A friend. I paint thee in my mind, — 

As in my mind I may,— 
A woman, like all women, kind 

And, like all young ones, gay; 
Nor have I fear that thou 'It resent 
This bit of rhyme in kindness to thee meant. 

Thy features fair I may but guess. 

Perchance 'twill e'er be so. 
Perchance my hand may never press 

Thy friendly hand below. 
Yet tho' on earth we never meet, 

Our minds, from where they dwell, 
May still partake communion sweet 

And wish each other well. 
So in thy kindness often send 
A thought from out life's battle to— Thy 
Friend. 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 7T 



XXXIII. 
ON A FLY-LEAF. 

Like a marble block, uncarved and bare, 
Or a drift of snow in the wint'ry air 
It lay before me pure and fair. 

This virgin page in its stainless white. 
And I thought: "Were it sager to leave it so 
Unmarred and unstained in its spotless glow^ 

Or to take up my pen, and write?" 

I am writing now; the ink-strokes crawl 
Across the page, and the long lines fall 
From side to side and over all, 

As soldiers move when a field is fought. 
Yet while the ranks and files march by, 
I question: "Which more charms the eye: 

A stainless page, or a useless thought?" 



78 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 
XXXIV. 
IN THE DORMITORY. 



Holy Cross, 1882.) 

The dormitory's weak, unsteady light 
Fought faintly with the gloomy shades of 

night. 
Without, the stars were hidden, all save one 
That near the east horizon brightly shone. 
Within my bed at softest ease I lay 
And thought of every action of the day 
And thanked my stars I had no cause to weep 
And courted for my comfort gentle Sleep. 
And soon he came. I saw my comrades, beds 
Around me, with their spotless, snowy spreads, 
Like gravestones in the gas-jets' feeble light. 
I saw the noiseless black-robed prefect stalk 
From end to end upon his lonely walk 
A veritable spirit of the night. 
I heard some weary dreamer's gentle snore 
And then I sank to sleep and heard no more., 
No; but I dreamed. 

Methought that years had flown 
And that, an old man, in the world alone, 
From home returned once more, I craved to 

see 
The Alma Mater so beloved by me. 
All things were strange, and new I gazed 

upon. 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 79 

That dear old Class of 'Eighty -Three was 

gone. 
New faces met my eye in each dear spot. 
New students sore bemoaned the ''Lines" 

they got. 
New prefects told again the same old story 
And cast their victims into "purgatory " 

I mounted to the place where erst we slept, 
And in my happiness I almost wept 
As ancient memories of boyhood's glee 
Thronged slow, yet sweet and surely, back 

to me. 
I found at length my well-remembered bed 
And threw myself upon it. And I said: 
"Is it the same old bed I loved so well?" 

Then Mr. C-s-y, as he rang the bell. 
Replied: "It surely is. But let that pass. 
Just tumble quickly out, and dress for Mass! " 



80 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 



XXXV. 
THE TRAMP. 



(See Note to "Loneliness.") 

He sits on yonder painted bench that over- 
looks the smiling sea. 

His clothes are tattered, and his shoes are 
well worn-out. But what cares he? 

While grass is green and skies are blue, while 
winds are sweet, and birds explore 

The unseen depths of atmosphere, he's happy. 
Kings can be no more. 

On velvet cushions ill at ease, with wrinkled 

brow and haggard eye, 
Admired by half his foolish town, the stolid 

millionaire ride-s by; 
And while he ponders o'er the wealth whose 

cares his wearied features stamp 
He murmurs: "O that I might own the liberty 

of yonder tramp!" 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 81 
XXXVI. 
TO MY CANARY. 



(See Note to "Loneliness.") 

Canary, ever singing 

Songs of thy home within the southern sea, 
Thy voice is e'er outringing 
Sweet notes of hope and comfort unto me. 
What tho' thou ne'er wast free? 
What tho' thy Httle will did ne'er rejoice 
In godlike liberty, 

Our thrice-ennobling attribute of choice? 
Thine is thy care-free life, and thine thy silv'ry 
voice. 

Hast thou no winged ambition 
To sing for more discerning ears than mine? 
Or deemst thou it elysian 
Within so mean a theatre to shine? 
No voice to vie with thine 
Save the hoarse alto of my violin; 
No laurels to entwine 

Thy brow. But only bright days that have been 
And sunshine fair without, and sweet content 
within. 

No doubt in days more sunny 

Thy race was happier: in the years gone by 

When neither love nor money 

Would steal thy liberty or make thee sigh 

Within yon cage; when I 



82 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 

Was formless, uncreated, yet to rise 
From nothingness; and thy 
Forefathers, basking 'neath cerulean skies. 
Sang sweetest songs for mine in peerless 
Paradise. 

It may be thou dost borrow 
Delights from woe, imprisoned in this place. 
It may be even sorrow 
That yields thy artless melody its grace, 
Poor Tasso of thy race. 

Whose sunny blood no frosts can e'er congeal t 
Condemned fore'er to trace 
Gay scenes thou canst not gaze on, and reveal 
Sweet sounds thou dost not hear, bright joys 
thou canst not feel! 

Yet cheer thee, for there lingers 

This consolation in thy gloomy state: 

That there are other singers 

Who share with thee thy melancholy fate 

And, prisoned here, await 

The gladsome day whose dawn shall set them 

free. 
And yearn to satiate 
Their longings, and with all humility 
Pray for that sweet content heaven graifteth 

unto thee. 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 8S 
XXXVII. 
TO WALTER. 



(On His First Birthday.) 

Merry Christmas, little stranger 

Just arrived from fairyland! 

Priceless gift from Santa Claus, 

Governed by his fairy-laws. 

From a land of ceaseless joy 

Where nor woe nor cares annoy 

Angels brought thee, hand in hand, 
To these realms of doubt and danger. 

Bright complexion; features rounded; 

Height twelve inches; weight two stone; 

Minus hair; with eyes of light 

Brilliant as the stars of night; 

Voice soft alto, prattling yet 

Fairy -words you'll soon forget: — 

That is your description, done 
Just as in a dream I found it. 

Little eyes, wide-oped in wonder 
At this funny, funny earth, 
May you ne'er be dimmed with tears 
Thro' a life of happy years! 
Little hands, too fair to soil, 
May you ne'er be rough with toil 
From the moment of your birth 

Till you reach that heaven yonder. 



84 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 

Little feet, that must be learning 
Soon to tread earth's weary ways, 
Thro' life's journey may you pass 
Gently as o'er meadow grass, 
Never swerving with your load 
From fair duty's upward road! 
So will you deserve all praise, 

Right embracing, wrong things spurning. 

Baby, may you never falter 

In the path our laws allow 

Till you reach the happy goal 

Where all joy awaits the soul 

That has done what it should do! 

This is what I wish to you, 

Even as I wish you now 
Merry Christmas, little Walter! 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 85 
XXXVIII. 
BASE-BALL SONG. 



(Holy Cross, 1882.) 

When the earth is fresh and fair 

With the promise of the spring, 
W^hen upon the balmy air 

i\ll the flowers their perfume fling, 
When the grass is growing green 

x^nd the skies are blue and soft, 
When the "buttercup and bean" 

Drop their clay and spring aloft, 
Then our life is never flat; 

Strive we then to win renown 
While we swing the willow-bat 

Up and down, up and down. 
Oh ! within this life so fleeting 

Whatsoever grief befall, 
Hearts are ever joyous beating 

Where exists a bat and ball. 

Tho' you're noted for your skill 

In the tossing of the ball, 
Yet your limbs must practice still 

Lest their soaring pride downfall. 
Inert virtue, laid away, 

Groweth stagnant in the air; 
Virtue practised day by day 

Ever shineth pure and fair. 
And the blood will pitter-pat 

Whether features smile or frown 



S6 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 

When you swing the willow bat 

Up and down, up and down. 
And within your life so fleeting 

Whatsoever grief befall 
Hearts will e'er be joyous beating 

When you take the bat and ball. 

One more holiday has fled 

With its sunny mirth and glee, 
Golden moments lightly sped ^ 

To the sea, Eternity. 
Floating on life's changing stream, 

Chequered hours of toil and play 
Soon will bring the amber gleam 

Of another holiday. 
Let your soul rejoice thereat, 

Tho' your sun-burned skin turn brown 
While you swing the willow bat 

Up and down, up and down. 
For within your life so fleeting 

Whatsoever grief befall. 
Hearts will e'er be joyous beating 

When you take the bat and ball. 

Pull together, loyal hearts! 

Soon will come the time for rest. 
Happy fortune ne'er departs 

From the men that do their best. 
Spring will nurse the tender shoots 
. Till they're strong; and some day we 
Yet may don those purple suits 

With the letters, H. C. C! 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 87 

Carpe diem! — Verhum sat.! 

Play the game from toe to crown 
While you swing the willow bat 

Up and down, up and down. 
Oh! Within this life so fleeting 

Whatsoever grief befall, 
Hearts are ever joyous beating 

Where exists a bat and ball! 



88 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 
XXXIX. 
THE MELODIES OF IRELAND. 



(Being the plaint of an aged exile.) 

The swash of billows breaking on the shore, 
The wind's w^eird sighing, and the songs 
of birds. 
The raindrop's pattering, and the rushing 
roar 
Of mountain torrents, — poems without 
words,^ 
All these in turn contribute to the grand, 
Bright, peerless music of my native land. 
Soft as the gushing murmur of the sea, 

Warm as the summer raindrop's pattering, 
Sweet as the birds that beautify the spring 
With nature's symphonies celestial, free 
As autumn's breezes playing in the trees, 
Are Ireland's soul-delighting melodies. 

And in heroic times they had their birth 
When naught save sordid dross was bought 
and sold. 
When Music reigned, a goddess, on the earth 

And Merit held a higher rank than Gold. 
The bard, enthroned in the banquet hall, 
Was next the person of the king, and all 
Did honour to him. When he struck the 
strings, 
A breathless stillness fell upon the crowd 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 89 

Till, breaking thro' the silence, sweet and 

loud 
His voice soared upwards, as his soul took 

wings. 
The monarch's smile, the plaudits of the 

throng. 
Paid homage to the singer and the song. 

Thus honoured in our isle, the goddess dwelt 

Long with us, and the magic of her sway 
Made bright life's gloomy shadows, till men 
felt 
Their joys increase, their sorrows fleet 
away ; 
While she, content to reach so bright a goal. 
Gave to fair Eire the fullness of her soul. 
And when the stranger came to Erin's shore 
And marred her beauties with oppression's 

blight 
And changed her sunbright day to gloomy 
night. 
Sweet Music only loved her more and more, 
Too grateful for the kindness of the past 
To leave her when her skies were overcast. 

The glories of our land have passed away; 

Our heroes all have died the caitiff's death ; 
Our saints have ever prayed, as still they 

For liberty; our children draw their breath 
From foreign atmospheres; our very tongue, 
The grand old Gaelic, fadeth from among 
The speeches of the living; we are wrecked 



90 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 

Upon the shores of Time, and other hands 
Have snatched our hoarded treasures from 
the sands 

And with our laurels other brows are decked. 

But Time's remorseless gulf shall never seize 

The glory of our Irish melodies. 

The melodies of Ireland, how they roll 

Spontaneous, yet unexcelled in art, 
To bind in flowery chains the raptured soul 

And move to fire or tears the stormy heart, 
Enslaving in their thraldom sweet and pure 
The ear of Byron and the pen of Moore! 
E'en as in olden days when Lucan scanned 
The flag of France above his head unfurled 
And cried: "We'll fight the battles of the 
world. 
Give us the music of our own dear land!" 
Such still the spell, the magic power to please 
That lurks in Ireland's witching melodies. 

I've heard them in the trebly crowded hall 
When Ireland's sons have met for Ireland's 
cause 
And marked th' enchantment stealing over 
all. 
Our souls too full to yield the due applause, 
Till tears of joy and hope have dimmed the 

eye 
And from the breast escaped the ready sigh. 
I've heard them ringing in the crowded street 
Where thousands marched thro' thousands, 
and the dead 



VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 91 

Were almost wakened by the martial tread 
Above them of a myriad hastening feet; 
And all my soul has kindled into light 
And maddened with fierce yearning for the 
fight. 

The melodies of Ireland! Once again, 

O grant it, heaven, 'ere my race is run 
And I have left the busy haunts of men 
And rest where never shines the golden 
sun. 
May my ears hear them! Not where tearful 

bands 
Of exiles seek new homes in foreign lands. 
Nor in that Ireland which oppressions stain; 
But in the strong, free Ireland, yet unborn, 
Whose light shall break upon us like the 
morn 
Or like her own bright Sunburst after rain, 
And teach unto the nations from her sod 
The power and mercy of the nations' God! 



THE END. 



